Fictober 2018
by I-write-hurt-not-comfort
Summary: Requests for Fictober 2018 - all set in one of my previously written AUs! / contains drug use, smoking, coming out, and Vincent chatting shit / Elleo and Vanijeanne
1. Chapter 1: It's never too late - 1

_**(A/Ns: requested by nawnomschnuff on tumblr. prompt: "this is gonna be so much fun!". fic/AU: it's not too late, it's never too late.**_

 _ **content warnings: drug use, vanijeanne, smoking)**_

* * *

 **Fictober #1 - "This is gonna be so much fun!"**

For the fifth time that hour, Vanitas glanced up at the clock again.

 _20:21_

9 minutes. Jeanne would be arriving in 9 minutes.

Every Friday night, when his parents were out doing who-knows-what, he would invite Jeanne over. Leaving their 16-year-old son in the house alone was just naïve, he thought.

Whenever Jeanne came over, they'd sit outside, smoke a few cigarettes together, and then retreat to the shed at the back of his garden, where they'd make love. Several times.

Currently, he was straightening his hair diligently – Jeanne always preferred it long – all the while sipping on a glass of whiskey from his parents' liquor cabinet he'd freely welcomed himself to. The packet of cigarettes beside him was tempting, but he had self-control; he would wait for Jeanne. Besides, neither of them was addicted, he would say. It was more something they shared. _Another_ thing they could share, just between the two of them.

Just then, his doorbell rang. Almost dropping straightener, he hastily switched it off, and grabbed the cigarettes, before darting downstairs.

Sure enough, at the door stood Jeanne. She wore a short, black skirt, along with a laced, pale-pink crop top, and a leather jacket. Merely looking at her made him smirk, leaning on the door and winking at her.

"You look beautiful, Jeanne," he said, leading her inside.

"Um, thank y-" She began to say, but before she was able to finish her sentence, Vanitas promptly wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in and planting his lips on hers.

She jolted, but only for a moment, and then melted into his embrace, allowing his tongue to slip past her lips and explore her mouth.

As soon as he pulled away, the deviant grin was back on Vanitas' lips. "Champagne?"

"Uh, I actually have something different, just for tonight…" she said, averting her gaze to the floor.

Her timid nature was somewhat off-putting, but Vanitas disregarded it. She was here, with him; if something was wrong, he trusted her to tell him. "Sure. What is it?"

"Can we go, um, outside first?" Jeanne met his eyes finally. But her expression was indecipherable.

Wordlessly, Vanitas went with it, digging a lighter out from one of the drawers in the kitchen cabinets, before following her outside. Taking her hand in his, the two made their way to the back of the garden, taking a seat on the bench as Vanitas grabbed the ashtray he kept hidden back there.

After Vanitas lit his own cigarette, he promptly held the pack out to Jeanne, who took one gratefully. As she stuck the cigarette between her lips, he extended the flame of the lighter. Carefully, she leant forward, holding the tip of the cigarette over the flame for a few moments, before inhaling deeply and exhaling the smoke through pursed lips.

Dragging on his own cigarette, Vanitas couldn't help but realise something was wrong. "You're acting a little strange. Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," she said softly, her gaze falling to the ground as he placed the cigarette back between her lips, and inhaled again. "Just a little tired."

"Alright." Vanitas brushed it off, tapping the ash off the cigarette and taking another deep drag. When he continued speaking, it was through a cloud of smoke, which captivated his attention as it drifted off into the night sky. "So, what did you bring for us?"

"Oh, this," Jeanne spoke cautiously, the cigarette balancing between the same two fingers which unzipped her jacket pocket.

The moment she pulled out a single joint – perfectly rolled – from her pocket, Vanitas visibly gawked.

"Oh _my_ ," His eyes widened, as he snuffed the half-finished cigarette out in the ashtray and plucked the joint from her fingers. Scanning it over multiple times, he seemed genuinely impressed. "Where did you get this?"

"One of my friends, um, you wouldn't know her, but... she said we should try it."

Vanitas had never done drugs himself. It wasn't something he was _eager_ to do, but he'd be lying if smoking pot just once wasn't on his bucket list. He'd never had much moral ground with drugs, anyway. Besides, everyone smoked weed every now and again. Once couldn't hurt him, right?

"Well, this night is going to be so much fun~!" Vanitas grinned, placed the joint between his lips, and lit up as if it were a normal cigarette.

The first drag didn't do much, except make him cough a little. Weed wasn't something his taste buds were accustomed to.

The second time he inhaled, however, hit him much, _much_ faster. He wavered, dizziness overwhelming him. Within an instant, everything became hazy. His hands felt warm. His vision was blurred.

If this was what being high felt like, then he was in _love_.

After the third hit, he finally came back to reality, passing the joint to Jeanne as she ground out her cigarette and took it between two fingers. "It's good. Try it."

Tentatively, she nodded, pressing the joint to her lips and inhaling slowly.

Vanitas could feel himself, in his drug-induced haze, growing quickly aroused. The sight of Jeanne was truly a picture, the smoke from the joint dancing around her. Her pupils dilated, as she passed the joint back to Vanitas.

"It's strong," she chuckled weakly, swaying a little.

"I love it," Vanitas said, his words level.

"It's something new," Jeanne responded with, taking another hit when Vanitas passed it back to her. "It's… relaxing, I guess."

For the next few minutes, Vanitas and Jeanne passed the joint back and forth, each taking a hit at a time until it was reduced to almost nothing.

Once he disposed of it, neither of them had to say another word. First, Vanitas leant in to Jeanne, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was sloppy, but she quickly took control, placing a hand on the side of his face and battling for control over the kiss. Vanitas smirked against her lips. This new dominance from Jeanne was unusual, but that wasn't to say he didn't like it.

"The shed," he murmured, pulling away and clumsily taking her hand in his. "Come on."

"Okay," she whispered, staggering after him.

The shed wasn't decorated with much, spare a single light in the ceiling and a full-size sofa. That sofa being the exact place where they'd made love on several occasions before.

Once again, Jeanne took control, shoving a heavily inebriated Vanitas back onto the sofa with an audible thump. Lips already pressed to his once again, she crawled on top of him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and dragging a finger down his chest. His arousal pressed into her hips, and she could _feel_ it, alright. _Prominently._

His left hand – the hand not holding the side of Jeanne's face – skilfully slipped under her skirt, peeling her underwear off.

They didn't need the light on. Even when they were both balls high on weed, they'd done this a thousand times.

But little did he know, this was the last time they'd ever make love to each other.


	2. Chapter 2: Nepenthe - 1

_**(requested by anonymous! prompt: "people like you have no imagination." fic/AU: nepenthe.  
i had fun doing this one! i always want to write more of the nepenthe teachers, they're a lot of fun. this takes place after the event of nepenthe chapter 13, which isn't finished yet, so there's some mentions but no spoilers.  
content warnings: swearing (i think), mentions of prescription drug abuse  
enjoy!)**_

* * *

 **Fictober #2 - "People like you have no imagination"**

"Reim."

No reply.

"Hey Reim~"

Still nothing.

"Reim~!"

After the third time calling his name, Break decided to take matters into his own hand. Scanning the mess of a desk in front of him, he picked up the first thing he saw – which happened to be an eraser – and flung it across the room. Sure enough, it hit Reim square in the face, the other teacher wincing, placing the pen down, and directing a stern, irritated glare at Break.

"What do you want?" Reim grunted, pulling the glasses from his face and scrubbing them aggressively.

"I'm bored now~" Break whined, as he spun his pen skilfully between two fingers. "Besides, Reim is just being pedantic. It's 5pm, we can goooo~!"

"Has it ever occurred to you that I have papers left to mark?" Reim shot back, repositioning his glasses before reverting his focus back to the test papers. "If you don't want to wait, you don't have to."

"Oh, but walking home alone is just _dull_."

"Hmph."

Needless to say, the residential area surrounding the college was also rather upper class. Almost all of the teachers who taught there lived around that area of the town, and Break and Reim were no exception to that. Today was also a Saturday, all teachers being required to work from 11 in the morning to 5pm, either planning lessons or marking tests.

"Fine, I'll finish at home," Reim sighed, frankly giving up at this point. "I must also remind you, however, that History tests take significantly longer to mark and grade than Chemistry."

"Possibly, but I _do_ have more classes than you," Break chuckled, placing the papers back into his bag. "No one likes History, nor do they want to do an A Level in it, fufu~"

Reim frowned, filed away his papers, and picked up his coat. "I think you'll find my two classes of 12 students would disagree."

"Nonsense~" Break resumed snickering, flicking the light off and kicking the door shut in the most over-the-top way possible. Reim internally facepalmed; everyday he would question how this person somehow managed to get a position teaching at somewhere so prestigious.

"Hnn, it's been a tiring day, indeed~" Break chimed as he led them out of the Science block. "How would Reim like to come and have a drink with me, hm?"

"Alright," Reim said, somewhat in defeat, but also partially willingly; most Saturdays, he and Break would get a couple of drinks after work. It was a tradition for them, you could say. "Do you want to invite Gilbert?"

"Hm, that sewer rat would have to come as well…"

"Yes, and you're _colleagues_. You're supposed to be _civil_ with him."

"Hm," Break pouted, but spun on his heel towards the Maths corridor nevertheless.

Sure enough, both Gilbert and his brother, Vincent, were in his classroom, the two packing up among idle chatter.

And without a moment of hesitation, Break barged in, grabbing Gilbert's attention first and grinning madly. Winking, he leant against the door frame, dragging his fingers over the display board beside the door. "Gilbert~!"

Visibly, Gilbert sighed. "What do you want?"

"Rude~" Break pouted teasingly. Bouncing into the room, he instantly ignored the threatening glares from Vincent, and pranced over to Gilbert. "I was just going to invite you for a drink with Reim and I!"

Gilbert seemed unwillingly to accept at first, but eventually sighed, glanced up, and caught his brother's gaze. "Vince?"

"Yes?" Vincent's expression morphed from pissed off to twinkling within a millisecond.

"You want to?"

"Whatever Gil wants, I'll be happy with," he smiled, sinisterly.

"Right," Gilbert deadpanned, and then turned back to Break and shrugged. "Alright, whatever. Do… you guys want a lift? I don't want more than one drink."

"Yes please~" Break said cheerfully, spinning back to Reim and frolicking back to the door. Impatiently, he stood waiting by Reim, before the two followed Vincent and Gilbert out to the car.

The car journey was fairly awkward, an awkward, heavy silence stopping anyone from attempting to make conversation. Fortunately, however, the drive to the nearest pub wasn't too long, and within 5 minutes, they reached their destination. And once they'd gotten their drinks, things were a little less awkward. _Remotely_ less awkward.

Within a few minutes of sitting down, Gilbert stood up again, bringing out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and picking his drink up. "I'll be right back," he said briefly, and then turned on his heel.

"Ooh, I'll follow~" Break declared, leaping up from the seat, grabbing the pint of lager from in front of him, and bouncing after Gilbert.

"Why?" Gilbert groaned under his breath, lighting the cigarette with the hand which wasn't holding the drink.

"Oh, just tradition, you know~?" he chimed.

"… you don't even smoke anymore."

"Hmm, no, but don't act so glum~" Break snickered. "Haah, there's nothing like a good bit of passive smoking to go with a drink."

Gilbert facepalmed internally, as he inhaled on the cigarette. "You confuse me."

The silence lingered further.

"I'm not an idiot, Break," he sighed. "There's another reason you followed me out here."

"Mhm…" Break hummed ambiguously. "Tell me, Gilbert, are you aware of anything that's been going on with Elliot?"

"Some of it…" Gilbert seemed reluctant to give a full response, instead dragging deeply on the cigarette. "I don't, uh, really know what's going to happen. So I'd… rather not talk about it too much."

"Fair enough."

"Alright, let's go back inside," the other prompted, snuffing the cigarette out into the overflowing ashtray and then leading the two back inside.

The moment he sat down again, Break immediately shuffled up annoyingly close to Reim, throwing an arm around his shoulder. With a beaming grin, he downed over half of the drink, before slamming it down on the table and just _relishing_ in the detestable glare he received from Vincent. "Ah, what conversation have I interrupted here then~?"

"Nothing of importance," Reim threw his arms off his shoulder. "We were just discussing one of our students."

"Ooh, which one?"

"Oz, if you must know." Meticulously, Reim cleaned his glasses again. "He studies both Literature and History, remember? He has potential, I believe. His essay writing skills are remarkable."

"Ah, yes! Oz, one of my favourite students, I'll say~"

"Of course, he doesn't study Chemistry," Vincent commented slyly, sipping on his drink. And the smirk donning his lips suggested he, in fact, _knew_ he'd provoked the other. Thus, he continued. "A pointless subject, really. It's no wonder he chose not to take it to Advanced Level."

"Chemistry is pointless, you say?" Break sipped his drink, mirroring the other's bitter smirk. "I think you'll find the Chemists are the ones who formulated those Risperidone pills you take. I doubt the Literary scholars had anything to do with that."

The glare Vincent responded with told Break rather bluntly that he should _not_ have said that. But the fact that he could tell he'd pissed him off only made him grin more.

Reim was, of course, frantically cleaning his glasses, as he nudged Break and spoke discreetly to him, "B-Break, I'm not sure you should be making this so personal-"

"I need not be defended, Reim," Vincent promptly cut him off, the sinister, unsettling smile creeping back onto his lips. But the glare, directed at Break, remained stern, and just as threatening. "People like you have no imagination. Getting personal is the only way you _can_ win an argument."

"People like _'me'_ , you say?" Break raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

"Scientists," Vincent spat. "Nighty percent of what they say is a conspiracy, and nothing more. There is no talent to it."

From beside him, Gilbert frowned, turning to Vincent and flashing him a rather confused, slightly offended glance. "Um… Vince?"

Within an instant, Vincent's glare just… disappeared. "Yes, Gil?"

"Did you, um, _forget_ that I teach Maths?"

"Of course not." That smile. That smile scared him. "I would never question what you say."

"Um, I-I don't mean to start discourse or anything, so please forgive me…" Reim interjected, and – sure enough – began anxiously scrubbing his glasses. "But if we're thinking about the significance of subjects, surely History would be one of the most? Studying past humanitarian disasters are surely the only way to prevent them in the future."

"Ah Reim, humans are going to mess things up regardless," Break chuckled, downing more of the alcohol.

"For once, I agree with _him_ ," Vincent spat.

"Hang on… why is no one talking about Maths here?" Gilbert spoke quietly, and fairly unpersuasively. "It proved the beginning of the universe, right?"

"Hmm, strictly speaking _no_ …" Break countered. "Physics _combined with_ Maths proved that. And I did Physics A Level so I'm clearly the smartest here."

"No one here teaches Physics though," Gilbert deadpanned. "Plus I did Physics A Level too, so that point means nothing!"

"Fufu, indeed you did. I bet you didn't do four A Levels though~"

Next to him, Reim cocked an eyebrow judgementally. " _You_ did _four_ A Levels?"

"Aha, yes!" Break snickered. "Chemistry, Physics, Maths and Fine Art. I do believe I got AAAB. The B was in Maths."

"… why did you do you Fine Art? That's so… _irrelevant_ to Chemistry?"

"Hmm, yes, but I enjoyed Art, so I thought I'd mix things up a little bit, you seeee~"

Reim blinked at him. "I… never considered you to be very intelligent."

"Rude~" Break pouted, nestling up to the other teasingly. "So, _Mr Lunettes,_ which A Levels did you do, hm?"

"History, Latin, French, and English Literature. My A* was in History, the other subjects were A's. Naturally, I was a _hard-working student_ , hence I became a teacher almost immediately after graduating. How _you_ landed a job so soon after graduating, I have to say, I am not so sure…"

"Pfft, I was _charismatic._ You were just a nerd," Break laughed. "And you, Gilbert? Care to share which A Levels you took?"

"Well… my college didn't let us take four, so… Maths, Further Maths and Physics…"

"Wait, Vincent…" Reim said abruptly, turned to the blonde, who appeared to be staring at Gilbert devotedly. "You did four, right? You… didn't start working with us until a year after, but they liked you, and I remember them saying something about you studying four subjects?"

"Yes," Vincent smiled. "I did not attend the same college as Gil. I was not allowed to join him. Instead I enrolled at a more… specialised college. I failed Philosophy, but obtained A's in Language and Psychology, and a A* in Literature."

" _Of course_ you failed Philosophy…" Break commented under his breath. "I suppose it _would_ be difficult to think about the world from multiple perspectives when you're drugged up on Zyprexa. Is that why you went to a _'specialised college',_ too?"

Once again, Vincent's smile broke, his expression morphing into a bitter glare. "Do you enjoy memorising every medication I've ever taken?"

Break shrugged, and snickered to himself. "I'm a Chemist. What can I say?"


	3. Chapter 3: Nepenthe - 2

_**(A/Ns: requested by nualie! prompt: "you shouldn't have come here". fic/AU: nepenthe.  
look im actually writing these. ok so this is longer than i intended, and it would've made more sense after nepenthe is finished, but basically, it takes place about 6-8 weeks after the current events of nepenthe. it felt good to write. **_

_**please drop a review if you can!**_

 _ **content warnings: homophobia, drinking, swearing, Elliot crying again, mentions of smoking, mentions of drug addiction/death, gay thoughts)**_

* * *

 **Fictober #3 - "You shouldn't have come here"**

 ** _[From Oz, 21:35]_**  
 _Are you sure you're okay?_

 ** _[From Oz, 21:37]_**  
 _Do you want me to come round there again? :3_

Elliot sighed, knocked his head against the chain suspending the swing, and unlocked his phone. He couldn't leave the other on 'read' twice in a row.

 ** _[To Oz, 21:38]_**  
 _Yeah, I'll be fine. Just a little shaken_

Exhaling, he then slumped against the chain altogether, pocketing his phone and shoving his hands in his pockets.

Currently, much against his will, he was at the park, a few blocks from his house. It was bordering between the good and the bad areas of the town, but he honestly didn't care.

Not too long ago, he'd gotten into yet another argument with his father, after his sister had had a go at him for staying late after school with Leo yet _again._

Well what was she expecting?! He'd only been fully off the drugs for 6 weeks! And - whilst he hated to admit it - Elliot didn't really trust his boyfriend at all when it came to drugs.

To cut a long story short, one thing had led to another, and the argument soon took an ugly turn, the focus of their frustration flitting to Elliot's sexuality. And that hurt. It hit him hard, and it _hurt_.

So, after grabbing the secret bottle of vodka Lottie had supplied him for times like his, he'd left out the window of his bedroom, giving himself some time and space to himself.

And some much-needed time for self-loathing.

He hated himself, he really did. His family would never be able to come to terms with who he was. And it just made him flat-out depressed, to be frank.

Lethargically, whilst internally suppressing said thoughts, Elliot bent over, and picked up the vodka off the ground beside his foot. Unscrewing the cap off, he didn't even give it a moment of thought, as he necked the straight liquor and suppressed a gag. He knew it was scummy, and that he was above this, but who cares?

The alcohol clouding his judgement meant that _he_ sure as hell _didn't_ care who saw him, or what they thought.

"You shouldn't have come here."

 _Shit_.

Ok, ok. Maybe there were _some_ people who he didn't want to see him like this.

That voice - the intonation indecipherable - belonged to Ernest, his last younger brother living at him, who was now slowly approaching Elliot with his arms folded over his chest.

 _This is going to get ugly,_ Elliot thought immediately, clutching the vodka tighter between his hands. His heart physically ached; he couldn't take another argument about this. Emotionally he just… couldn't. _Shit, he's gonna find the vodka as well._

And that exactly he did, wordlessly plucking the bottle straight from Elliot's hands, inspecting it for a moment, before launching it into the fence, shrouded by bushes.

"Sorry…" Elliot murmured idly, his gaze flitting to the floor in an attempt to avoid eye contact.

"You didn't do anything _wrong_ , per say." Ernest spoke with a strange calmness in his words. It was… unsettling, but also remotely comforting somehow. "Albeit I'm not sure drinking neat vodka on a Tuesday evening is a good idea."

Internally, Elliot face-palmed. He didn't even want to _think_ about the hangover he'd inevitably have tomorrow morning. "Yeah…"

A heavy silence lingered.

"Why are you here?" Elliot confronted weakly. "Tch, has father sent you to come and get me?"

"Nope," Ernest said, as he stuck his hand in his pocket and sauntered over to the swing beside Elliot. Sitting down, he took a few more seconds to scan the other over, before averting his gaze to the horizon of the field in front of them. "Our father doesn't know either of us aren't home."

Another pause. Elliot seemed reluctant to speak.

"What's up?"

"It doesn't matter," Elliot grumbled. Internally, he just _wished_ he still had the vodka, as he fiddled with his hands in his lap in a futile hope to move his attention from _this_ conversation. "It won't mean anything to you."

Ernest sighed. "This isn't about _him_ , right?"

Elliot didn't respond.

"It's about your sexuality, isn't it?"

Freezing, physically and mentally, Elliot found himself _unable_ to respond this time. His heart pounded within his chest. He couldn't have this conversation again. Not with someone so _hateful_ of _it._

A second later, though, he nodded. Denial never worked.

"We need to talk about this," Ernest said, his tone still level.

"I don't want to talk about this with _you_ ," Elliot refused bluntly. "None of you understand, or even care!"

"I might not understand," Ernest shrugged, unable to pull Elliot's gaze from the ground. "But I do care."

There was a short pause.

"I'm ready to listen, Elliot."

Elliot didn't say anything.

"Alright, we'll start slow," Ernest declared, flashing the other a slight smile. "How did you know you were, you know, gay?"

Internally, Elliot cringed. Hearing his brother say that sent so many emotions racing through him.

Nevertheless, hesitantly, he gave an answer. "Well... my friends always seemed to make jokes about it, because I never really seemed interested in girls. And, uh, the girls always seemed interested in me, for some reason…"

Ernest chuckled. "Because you're a rich, good-looking aristocrat. Why wouldn't they have a crush on you?"

"I don't know!" Elliot yelped. "I just… never pay attention to them?"

"Well…" There was another short pause. "Why… didn't you?"

"I'm… not sure…" Elliot exhaled heavily. This conversation, as expected, was mentally draining. "You'd seen me, I've been on dates before." He couldn't help but laugh at that. "The amount of girls who asked me out; I don't even remember. But I… I guess I just... couldn't bring myself to feel that way about them. There was just... nothing there."

Slowly, Ernest nodded. It was still unknown to him, but that's why they were here, right? He was learning. They would work through it. "So… what happened when this new friend of yours came into the picture?"

" _Boyfriend…_ " Elliot grunted almost inaudibly. He was getting sick of correcting people about that. But still, he laughed a little. Tragically. At himself. "He drove me insane. But I enjoyed being around him. And then when he wasn't there, I'd feel really lonely. And then, one day, I... he was sick, and had basically told me to go away. And I just felt rejected. And then Oz and Lottie kept making jokes about it, and I just... I don't know. I just knew then."

"That's what I don't understand," Ernest said. Elliot's heart dropped, just a little. " _How_ do you know?"

"You just... get this _feeling_. And when you come to terms with it, everything suddenly makes sense. The lack of attraction towards females, that weird attraction I had towards _him_. And the fact that I'd gotten... really defensive whenever my friends made jokes." He sighed, looking towards the sky for the faintest bit of hope that Ernest believed him. "And I just knew it at that point. I _knew_ I was gay."

"I see…" Ernest mumbled, deep in thought, his gaze captivated by the horizon. "So, it's not a _choice_?"

At that, Elliot snorted, derisively; at himself, again. "Of course not. If it was my choice then... I wouldn't be gay. I hate myself for it."

"When did this all happen? How long did you… keep it to yourself?"

"Um… probably about two months ago? It was that time, when you…" His found his words trailing off. His voice cracked, his chest tightening all of a sudden. Remembering _that_ day was painful. Really. It hurt to even think about. And _that_ – that was reflected by the tears, uncontrollably brimming in his eyes. He winced, shying away from Ernest's stare, with a hand half-concealing his eyes. "I'd been in my room, thinking about it, and I'd just… realised, and then you were saying all that _shit_ , like how it was… i-inconsiderate, and disgusting, a-and attention-seeking."

"Elly, don't start crying on me now," Ernest scolding softly. It was, however, in no way aggressive, or in tolerant; rather, understanding, if anything. "At first, I thought you were doing it for attention. I'm not going to pretend I didn't. But then... you got so upset over it. And I can see now just how much it bothers you. And clearly nothing is going to change it, so..." He paused, waiting for Elliot to stop sobbing. And then, with more honesty in his words than the other had ever heard before, he continued. "I'm okay with it, really."

Great. He'd just _stopped_ crying, and now he was back to sobbing again. Really great.

He wanted to speak. He wanted to respond. But he physically couldn't. His vocal chords simply stopped working.

Then, Ernest sighed, and placed a hand sympathetically on his shoulder. With a comforting squeeze, he flashed him a brief, but earnest smile. It was… reassuring. "I can't imagine what this is like for you, but I want you to know that I'm opening up to it. Because you're no different. Haha, you're… still my baby brother."

Eventually, Elliot was able to just about stop crying, forcing a smile on his lips as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Yeah, I…"

"So," Ernest said. "Tell your big brother about this _boyfriend_ you love so very much~"

Crying was instantly replaced with blushing furiously. Elliot cringed, visibly, but was thankfully able to laugh it off. "What… do you want to know? How much do you already know?"

"Well, listening to Dad, I… picked out that he's an addict," he said. "What's… that all about?"

" _Was…_ " Elliot corrected under his breath. "His father was… killed in a car crash, and he almost died, too. And he was prescribed… OxyContin. I'm… sure you know what that is. And… yeah, it went from there. The amount he's gone and gotten through is… incredible."

"Yeah, must've been rough…" Ernest muttered, absently. "You're not going to like what I tell you next, but… that video. I have seen."

Elliot's stomach filled with dread, and his blood boiled. " _What_?"

"I didn't _ask_ to see it. Dad and Vanessa were watching the footage of the night he was in hospital, and they… showed me."

"So wait," Elliot deadpanned, evidently pissed off. "Y-You know that moment meant a lot to me, and now you're telling me everyone's seen it?!"

"I know," he said. "I know it meant a lot to you. I could… tell it meant a lot to you. And it was at that point I thought that, just maybe, this whole gay thing really didn't matter."

Sure enough, Elliot wanted to cry again. Those words were something he never, _ever_ imagined he'd hear. His gaze locked on the horizon, and shortly, he found himself re-evaluating his life.

"So, have you slept with him yet?"

"What the heck?!" Elliot yelled, his face flushing a deep red.

"If you had a girlfriend, I'd ask the same thing," Ernest reasoned, winking at his brother.

"Oh…" Elliot frowned, but chuckled nonetheless, shaking his head. "No, I haven't."

"Figures," he said, and then abruptly, stood up. "Come on. It's 10 o'clock already. You need to be in bed."

"I'm almost 17, asshole," Elliot grumbled, standing up from the swing. However, as soon as his feet came into contact with the ground, he swayed, his balance throwing him off.

"You really ought to watch your drinking," Ernest commented slyly.

"Yeah…" Elliot sighed in defeat. "You're… not going to tell father, right?"

"Jesus, of course not," he scoffed. "As long as you don't start smoking."

"What?" Elliot feigned cluelessness.

"This boyfriend of yours. He smokes. I trust you not to start yourself."

"Uh, yeah…" Elliot grunted. This was okay. He could deal with this. And for the first time in forever, he felt remotely less hateful towards himself. Additionally, he felt strangely… comfortable taking about these kinds of things with his brother. "I'm always trying to get Leo to quit anyway…"

"Leo, huh?"

"What?"

"Nothing…" Ernest smiled, once again. And that smile made Elliot believe that perhaps this _would_ be okay in the end. "You just… never told me his name, that's all."


	4. Chapter 4: Nepenthe - 3

_**(A/Ns: requested by moody-marshmellow-093. prompt: "oh please, like this is the worst I've done". fic/AU: Nepenthe. thanks for requesting this one! and sorry it's a little shorter, the other ones were longer than i planned them to be,,, fyi, this takes place approx. 6 months after Nepenthe ends (well... when ch 15 will be set), and yes, i know AS exams aren't actually a thing anymore.**_

 ** _please drop a review if you can! these fictober requests were super fun to write._**

 ** _content warnings: swearing, smoking._**

 ** _disclaimer: i do not own Pandora Hearts_**

* * *

 **Fictober #4 - "Oh please, like this is the worst I've done"**

It was the day of their first AS Level exam. And they were _shitting_ themselves, to put it bluntly.

And that _included_ Leo, as well. Leo, the student who Elliot, and eventually most of their class, had held on such a pedestal.

Currently, it was 8:15am, some of the students of their Latin class already lined up outside the exam hall. Because, for some reason, language exams were always earlier. And to no surprise, not many people did Latin. (Not anymore, at least.)

There were only four of them there already, those four being Elliot, Leo, Oz, and Lottie. Leo was pacing back and forth, Elliot and Oz were frantically memorising vocabulary, and Lottie was leant against the wall on her phone, evidently unfazed by the fact they had an extremely important exam in half an hour.

Abruptly, Leo stopped in his tracks, cursing under his breath. "Shit."

"Well this is a change~" Lottie chuckled, but kept her eyes locked on her phone. "I have to say, I've never seen you uneasy about anything academic."

"Hm," Leo hummed. "I can read it, but I'm terrible at writing in Latin." There was a short pause where no one said a word. "How long before the exam starts?"

"We'll be taken inside in 15 minutes," Oz answered, and then face-planted the vocabulary sheet. "Haaah, I'm never going to remember all these words when I get in there!"

"Elliot, come to the bathroom with me," Leo demanded, hastily scanning their surroundings, before whisking the other back inside and down the corridor. As expected, Elliot didn't protest, unwilling to exacerbate the other's stress. He'd learnt that lesson _multiple_ times before.

Fortunately, not many students were in school yet, so no one thought it was weird when Leo opened the door to the disabled toilet, and dragged Elliot inside with him.

No one except Elliot, at least. "What the hell?! I-I don't want to watch you use the bathroom!"

"I'm not using the bathroom, idiot," Leo shook his head, locking the door before meticulously glancing over the walls. And when he locked eyes on the smoke alarm, Elliot facepalmed internally; he knew _exactly_ how this was ultimately going to end up.

Sticking a hand in his inside pocket, Leo hopped up onto the toilet seat, pulling out a ruler and unscrewing the four screws. Then, he pulled off the front, grabbed the pair of scissors from his blazer pocket, and cut the top wire, with rehearsed precision, before placing the front back on the alarm.

"How the hell do you know how to disable that?" Elliot asked, genuinely perplexed.

Behind the shield of his hair, Leo smirked, keeping one hand dedicated to screwing the appliance back on the wall whilst placing a cigarette between his teeth with the other. "Believe me, I've taken apart enough smoke alarms over the last couple of years."

"Right…" Elliot murmured, as Leo stepped down from the toilet, turned his back to Elliot, and pulled out a lighter. When he heard the _click_ of the lighter, Elliot's heart dropped. "What the fuck?! Y-You can't smoke in _here_!"

Leo scoffed, mockingly dragging on the cigarette before pulling the it away from his lips along with a cloud of smoke. Staring down at the cigarette, he flicked the ash off onto the ground, and said, "Oh please, like this is the worst I've done."

Curious, Elliot couldn't help but ask, "Well… what _is_ the worst you've done?"

For a moment, Leo just stared at him, unresponsively. Then, he held up the cigarette, and questioned him. "You mean, like, regarding _this_ , or just… in general?"

"Um… both?"

"Hm…" Leo thought aloud, wandering over to the window and cracking it open, before inhaling deeply on the cigarette once again. "Well… oh, I took the entry exams for this school at the college I'd been kicked out of, and I finished the Maths exam halfway through, and I was _so_ bored, but they wouldn't let me leave because there was ' _allocated time_ ', or some bullshit. So I ended up asking to be taken to the bathrooms. And I just lit up in there."

Elliot bit back any comments. "And… in general?"

"That's a very open question, you know," Leo snickered, leaning against the window pane now, as he tapped off the ash outside. He smirked; flaunting his recalcitrance would always be one of the funnier ways of teasing Elliot. "Probably the time I lit up in my old college bathrooms, and some kid came in from year 13 and told me not to smoke in there. So I threw a book at him, told him to piss off. He tried to punch me, so I dodged, broke his arm, and then knocked him out. His friends came in, and I beat most of them up until a teacher finally worked out what the noise was. Most of them ended up in hospital from head injuries. That was funny."

"The fuck?" Elliot cocked an eyebrow judgementally. Leo, however, seemed totally unfazed. "Alright. Sure."

He saw through him, nonetheless.

He saw the light trembling in his hands. He saw the way he paced restlessly around the bathroom. And most prominently, he saw how nicotine did next to nothing to help that.

Wrinkling his nose at the smell of the smoke, Elliot leant against the door, and said, "You'll be fine, Leo."

"Fuck, I hope so," Leo muttered, sucking the life out of the cigarette, flushing it down the toilet, and then turning back to Elliot. "Come on. We have an exam to do."

Those words did little to soothe Elliot's nerves. At most, he was merely reassured by the fact Leo was nervous too.

By the time they got back to the others, most of their class had gathered outside the exam hall.

Oz was, to no surprise, the first to respond to their return. "Where the hell did you go?! You took forever!"

"Ah, is that even a question?" Lottie chuckled, winking at the two, who stood awkwardly in silence. "We can smell the smoke on you, you know~"

Elliot froze. Leo, on the other hand, seemed unbothered by the callout, throwing his arms up sarcastically and brushing it off with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders. "What can I say? I was nervous."


End file.
